


Magic at the End of Worlds (Devotion to the Sea Remix)

by lilfluffykitten



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies), Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest (2006)
Genre: F/M, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-15
Updated: 2012-04-15
Packaged: 2017-11-03 17:34:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/384070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilfluffykitten/pseuds/lilfluffykitten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She had answers, but were they the answers he was searching for?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Magic at the End of Worlds (Devotion to the Sea Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Erinya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Erinya/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Something Rich And Strange](https://archiveofourown.org/works/316544) by [Erinya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Erinya/pseuds/Erinya). 



> Thanks to the lovely porridgebird for the helpful advice and suggestions.

There was magic in this place at the end of worlds. Perhaps not surprising considering where they had been, the audacity of what they had just done. But this was something else. Something ancient and familiar and she could see it; threads of cold bright silver, shimmering like the full moon on still water, dimly glowing wherever she looked and exploding into cold fire in the darkness when she closed her eyes. Those silver threads weren’t still; they writhed and thrashed as if alive, entwining through the small pools of water on deck, in the moisture in the air and twisting in the very fibres of the ship and her crew. She rested a hand on the sun-warmed rail and saw them tangle, then smooth, at her touch. She could feel them now, a maddening itch under her skin, an itch that could not be relieved no matter how she might wish it to be. But she did not wish it. She was just grateful that the sea remembered her, and she knew it would wait for her.

Their prize, pretty bird that he was, had lost nothing of his cunning ways. His rescue from the Locker, by the very woman who had sent him, had discomfited him less than it had the would-be murderer herself. Elizabeth flitted around him, for once unsure of her place, testing the waters with low words and light touches until Jack rounded on her, grabbing her upper arms to anchor her to him. Whispering urgently, heads bowed together, they reached one final accord. Will watched this uneasily, only half understanding but still powerless to stop the terrible bargain being struck in front of him. She had watched him keenly, pressing forward almost before he had begun to move, fitting herself to the curve of his back and feeling the tension running through his body.

"Stay, William Turner. They two birds of one feather, and 'tis not now the proper time nor place to stand between them."

He had protested, of course, but some truths could not be so easily denied. He pulled away from her, anger now mixing with those more complicated emotions her touch had awoken. “What do you know about Elizabeth?”

Little enough, but even if she didn’t know the players she certainly knew this story. Although their destinies would eternally be entwined, she knew that their love would also be bounded by pain. She reached up to gently touch his cheek. “Poor William,” she murmured, feeling an answering stab of grief, a memory, deep with herself.

When he finally allowed her to kiss him, she closed her eyes and saw those silver threads blossoming into brilliance through and around them, crashing like the waves and tying them together in that moment. Beneath that she heard an echo of the sea pulsing through his blood, and briefly felt her lungs and eyes burning until, suddenly, a strange feeling of peace, of calm radiated through her. The dull roar coalescing into a single heartbeat. She could no longer tell if was his or her own.

Will started back from her, blinking in astonishment. “What are you?”

Ah, that truly was the question. One that once could have been easily answered. Nurturer and destroyer she had been, implacable and indifferent, pleasing only herself and her whims. Until she had fallen in love with a man who did not know the old stories were true, that the sea really was a cruel mistress. Or perhaps he was merely arrogant, or misguided, believing he could change her, not understanding that a goddess’s heart was very different to his own fragile one. Now she understood, only too well, what that abandonment felt like. She had railed at her binding, raged blindly, cursing Jones and herself. She was not suited to humanity; after all, the lives of humans had been nothing to her _before_ , but now human life was all she had, with its attendant pains and petty terrors and, oh so few, fleeting flashes of joy. She had to learn, and relearn, who she was and what she was capable of. Through long years of watching and plotting she _had_ learned, and more importantly remembered, and now she wasn’t quite so weak. The call of the sea, once strong enough to bind any man to her, may have changed but it wasn’t lost. Not any longer. Now it merely took a subtler form, as befitted her new situation.

She led him easily into the cool dimness below deck. As she ran her hands under his shirt she remembered other lovers, their touch on her skin, whispered declarations of undying love and their shifting emotions and passions that had so amused her. She remembered the love she felt in turn, flaring bright and pure in her breast each time even if it did seem fleeting and fickle in their eyes. 

His sudden shyness amused her, but she had always been inventive and he forgot himself when she slipped out of her dress and revealed herself fully. She guided his hands, impatient now, no longer in the mood for gentleness, and rewarded him by arching into his touch. He had craved knowledge and, although not the knowledge he had bargained for, this would stand him in better stead. She kissed him again, fiercely, laughing at his small gasp of… fear? Of lust? It was of no matter; the line between both is narrow and both serve to quicken the heart.

He shifted then, kneeling before her, and reached for her again; his mouth soon followed his hands and they moved again, rising and falling together.

Later, and how much later she could not tell, he laid his head against her belly and she felt more than heard him whispering her name, her true name, into her skin and it pleased her. She has been called many things; has been prayed to, feared, loved, and she accepts Will’s devotion as it is her right. After all she is the sea and what man can fail to tremble before such power?


End file.
